Retribution
by tankobite
Summary: A take on the battle of Torfan, as told through the eyes of Spacer Shepard and an Original Character.
1. Plans

"No plan ever survives contact with the enemy."-Human Military Maxim.

* * *

The decontamination cycle hissed softly and an emotionless female voice spoke, "Decontamination Cycle Complete. Welcome to the SSV Johannesburg."

Major Kyle, his staff, and his company commanders entered the cruiser where an honor guard of marines stood at attention. The officer in charge saluted Major Kyle and spoke, "Sir, if you and your staff will follow me, I'll take you to Admiral Malik's briefing."

Kyle returned the salute and spoke with a deep, gravelly voice, "Thank you Lieutenant. And what about my junior officers? I'd like to see about having the rest of my officers here for my briefing."

"Second Lieutenant Coigent will take the ones that are here down to the Officer's Mess until you are ready for them," The marine lieutenant gestured to a junior naval officer standing at attention to his left, "And I'll see about getting the rest of your officers on board—but we're a little busy at the moment."

"Very well," Kyle said, turning to his officers, he added, "Try out the chow-if it's better than what we're getting aboard the Zhukov, I want you to beg, borrow, or steal it for us. That's an order."

The junior most officer, First Lieutenant Park, an Earth-born man fresh from the academy jokingly asked, "Does that include any contraband we find?"

"Especially any contraband," Kyle said, a smile creasing his dark face,'' I'd be disappointed if none of my officers can find any navy hooch. Everyone knows how soft cruiser captains are on discipline. I'll see you shortly."

"Aye, aye Major," the junior officers replied as Kyle and his staff departed.

The senior Staff Lieutenant, Almeida turned to their new guide, "Lead the way, Squid."

"Aye ma'am, follow me," Coigent said, seemingly ignoring the barb from the dark-haired amazon until the marines heard him softly mutter, "Jarheads."

As they stood in the elevator, the Bravo Company commander noticed that their guide was staring at him, "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

"You don't recognize me, do you sir?" The man said mischievously, "I suppose it has been quite a long time since our days at the academy, Jean."

Shepard cocked his head at the French pronunciation of his first name, but still couldn't place the stranger. The other officer apparently knew him on a first name basis and seemed to be expecting some sort of response. Taking a shot in the dark, Shepard offered, "Frenchie, is that you?"

Shepard wasn't sure that Coigent was convinced that he recognized him, but whatever the case, the navy man responded, "Yes sir. It's been a long time."

Shepard offered a hand and Coigent shook it vigorously, "It's a small galaxy, but ease up on the formality. We're all lieutenants here. Just call me John."

Almeida laughed, brushing back a few strands of black hair behind her ear, "Or just call him Shepard or Shep. That's what we all do. It's easier."

"I don't see how 'Shepard' could possibly be easier than calling me by my given name, Maria," Shepard grumbled good-naturedly.

"It just is," she replied, "Face it; you could save Earth, get humanity a seat on a council, and become the first human Spectre, but you'd still just be Shepard to us."

The elevator finally came to a stop and Coigent lead them down a long corridor to the Officer's Mess Hall. The three marines from the troop ship were surprised at the size of the Officer's Mess; it was only slightly smaller than the entire mess that both officers and enlisted shared back on their troop ship. The cruiser also appeared to be better stocked than their own ship.

Coigent began to explain the options available to them, but being combat officers, their eyes were drawn to the most important feature in this mess hall: a shiny-new coffee machine at the other end of the room. It stood next to a grill that was attended to by a slightly overweight NCO who was doing his best to take orders from a small crowd, who appeared to also be guests on this ship. The three marines from the Grigori Zhukov dashed straight to the coffee machine, leaving Coigent standing alone mid-sentence.

Shepard, Almeida, and Park found an empty table once they had each gotten a cup of coffee to each of their satisfaction: black for Almeida and Shepard, two sugars and creamer for Park; the other two marines ridiculed him a little for that, but he paid them no mind. Taste mattered more to him than being a 'tough guy' anyway. Their host was absent, so Almeida took the opportunity to press Shepard for some details.

"So you know this squid, Shep?" She asked, "He's not too bad looking...for a navy boy. I like those grey eyes. Looks mysterious."

"Cradle robbing again, Maria?" Shepard teased.

"Someone's gotta make men out of these boys and since he's out of our CoC, it's not fraternization," Almeida turned to Park and added menacingly, "Jung, if Shepard cracks another insubordinate remark like that, I want you to get one of the techies in the support platoon to hack his omni-tool to broadcast those awful Korean soaps you watch."

Shepard raised his hands in mock surrender, "That's got to be a violation of the Citadel Conventions Maria...consider my lips sealed shut. I've got to find someone who can teach me some omni-tool security...At any rate, I think he's only a year or two behind me; he's probably about Jung's age. I vaguely remember seeing him when I was honor company commander during my senior year...but I'm drawing a blank on a name."

"Better keep quiet about that; here he comes," Park added, "And he brought some snacks. I don't care if he is a squid, he knows how to play host."

Coigent arrived at the table with a small platter of various finger-foods and the marines greedily dug in, quickly reducing the plate to crumbs. Park remained unsatisfied, so Coigent directed him over to the grill where a small line of marines were patiently waiting for their various dishes. While they were chatting, Almeida covertly caught Shepard's attention and tapped on her ring finger, frowning disappointedly. Shepard carefully looked at Coigent's left hand and noticed a golden wedding-band on his finger. Seeing the wedding ring vaguely brought back a memory of Coigent holding hands with another underclassman back at the academy, so Shepard decided to risk a guess.

"So you finally got hitched. Was it with that girl back at the academy? What was her name again?"

Quickly, the smile disappeared from Coigent's face, quickly replaced by a shadow. Shepard held his breath as he waited for the other man to explain his grief.

Momentarily, Coigent composed himself and began to speak, "Alma. Her name was Alma," he took a drink from his tea cup and continued, "We were married last year, but the honeymoon was cut short because her company had to investigate a science team that went missing on Akuze."

At the mention of Akuze, both Almeida and Shepard shifted uneasily in their seats. They had both heard of the disaster; a company of marines had touched down on the colony and landed right in the middle of a thresher-maw nest. They shuddered as they imagined the fate of those marines; the galaxy held some nasty creatures: krogan, vorcha, or batarian. Even a turian could be quite ugly on a bad day, but thresher-maws were among the worst horrors that lurked among the stars-subterranean monstrosities of tentacles and teeth that were rumored to spit acid. Few who ran into them survived to confirm the rumors. None of the marines on Akuze had.

Almeida gently put a hand on Coigent's shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice. He stared intently into his cup of tea for a few moments while Shepard tried to think of something he could say. Desperate to break the silence, he blurted out the first words that came to mind:

"I'm so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you," As soon as the words crossed his lips Shepard realized how hollow and hackneyed they sounded. He wracked his brain for some way to make things right. Finally something clicked and he reached across the table and grabbed Coigent's wrist, "Alma was a wonderful girl, Augusté. The galaxy's a far poorer place without her."

Hearing his own name, Coigent finally looked up, surprised that Shepard had indeed remembered him. A sad smiled formed on his face, but Coigent began to speak, "Yes, she was lovely. I miss her terribly."

"Am I interrupting something?" Park said, approaching from behind Coigent with a small mountain of food. He seemed about ready to make some sort of comment about the strange sight of the two marines with their hands on the naval officer, but a stern look from Shepard warned him off that approach.

Instead, Shepard decided to change topics, as he sat back. Almeida likewise pulled away from Coigent, but her hand traced its way down his arm; however her gestured received no response from Coigent, to her disappointment.

"Do you know what's going on?" Shepard asked, "They've been pretty good on opsec since we joined the flotilla. Have we arrived at our destination? Where are we?"

Coigent thought for a moment as he reached into a pocket and produced a small briar pipe and put it to his mouth. Shepard and the other marines were taken aback at this, but none of the other officers of the cruiser said anything.

Seeing their confusion he offered, "It helps me think."

He took another faux pull of his pipe before he continued, "Smoking isn't encouraged, but since Sirta's effectively cured cancer and tobacco happens to be one of the only exports Earth still has, the Alliance doesn't want to stifle it. I'm a walking advertisement."

"So you smoke real tobacco off ship?" Pushing a little further Almeida added, "It gives you awful breath."

"I'm not kissing anyone at the moment," Coigent took another drag from his pipe, nothing but clean air came out. Finally he turned to answer Shepard.

"We're in the shadow of a planet, hiding our presence from its moon. That's our target. It's an awful little rock called Torfan."

* * *

A few hours later, Major Kyle's executive officer called them and told them to meet in one of the Johannesburg's briefing rooms. Coigent guided them to where Kyle and the other officers were waiting. To Shepard's surprise, the platoon leaders had been brought over from the Zhukov. He prepared to thank Coigent for being their host before he left, but Coigent took a seat next to Park.

Before Shepard could ask what Coigent's role was, Major Kyle began to speak, "As you're probably well aware, our journey is almost over and we'll soon be arriving at our destination. You all know why the navy's brought along so many ground pounders-we're here for a fight.

"What you may not know, is that if we're successful here, we'll finish the campaign we started after the Skyllian Blitz," At this, Major Kyle brought up a holographic display of the Skyllian Verge, with small red lights marking engagements between Alliance ships and pirate vessels.

"We've been pushing the pirates and slavers back, but every time we think we've caught a major force, they scatter and force us to chase them across the system. We've been unable to locate a staging point or their logistics hub."

Kyle pressed his omni-tool and brought up a rocky looking moon, "However, with help from the Salarian Union, we've found it. This ugly looking rock is Torfan and this is where the slavers and pirates organized their attack on Elysium."

The officers began to mumble amongst themselves, but Kyle held up a hand, "Please hold your questions to the end."

Now that he had their attention again, he continued, "Here is the situation: Salarian Special Forces report an enemy refueling base with a security detail and ground crew of about 2,000 strong. Our higher unit mission is to secure and destroy this base."

The hologram zoomed into an unimpressive looking compound on the northern hemisphere, a few anti-aircraft turrets and some small buildings scattered throughout, "Our mission is to establish a beach-head and secure entrances to the compound. Once we've done that, we're to hold until second and third battalions make ground fall. Then they will take over and begin to clear the tunnels."

He paused for a moment, "The plan is to hit Torfan hard, hit it fast, and salt the earth, as it were. When, not if, the batarians send forces to assist these scum, the Alliance wants them to find nothing but ashes. Torfan is a message-we didn't just get lucky and surprise the Turians at Shanxi. We're a powerful military force and if we want a place gone, nothing will stop us. We want to cooperate with the Citadel Community, but mess with Humanity and you will burn.

"Questions about the overall concept of the operation?"

Shepard raised his hand and Kyle gestured at him with a flat hand, fingers extended, "Go ahead, John."

"Sir, it sounds like we're being dropped right on top of the base for our assault, is that correct?"

"It is," Kyle replied, "I will go over the specifics in a moment, unless there are further questions?"

Shepard continued, "Forgive me sir, but why? I thought standard doctrine was to land at a staging point and assault overland with armored support. Wasn't the whole point that a direct assault from orbit on a fixed defensive position invited disaster?"

Kyle shifted uncomfortably, but finally spoke, "That is correct. However, Admiral Malik feels that due to political concerns speed is of the essence. We should have the element of surprise and before our battalion touches down, the Johannesburg and the Chengdu will bombard the site from orbit.

"The salarian Special Tactics Group also reports that the location should not have much in the way of anti-air capabilities. The turian peace-keeping forces have been effective in limiting the arms that the Batarian Hegemony has been able to smuggle to their privateers."

"Political concerns?" Almeida spoke up, a dubious expression on her face.

The major sighed, "Command is worried that once we kill the pirates' comms, batarian warships could be sent to investigate-we know they've been supplying material and training aid; it isn't much of a stretch to think the batarian military might get involved."

"So what?" Almeida said dismissively, "Bring the four eyed bastards on. What are we pussy-footing around for?"

This time Shepard turned to his compatriot, "Because Maria, right now we're fighting pirates and slavers. We engage a Hegemony Fleet, we start open war."

"And the Council wouldn't want humanity to actually protect their colonies from the source of their danger, would they?" Coigent muttered bitterly.

"Shepard is correct," Kyle said nodding, "We've been chasing these guys for two years; the brass wants to end this conflict, not start a new one."

He waited a moment for further questions, but when none came, he continued to the meat of his operations order, "Almeida, Shepard, you're companies will lead the assault. Our whole battalion will be dropping in the first wave, but you two are our spear head."

Turning to Almeida, Kyle said seriously, "I want your company to focus on silencing any anti-air the enemy might have left-the salarians say it'll be clear and Malik believes the bombardment will allow us to land unopposed, but I don't trust those pencil necks.

"I want Bravo Company," Kyle said, knifehanding at Shepard as several points were outlined on the hologram, "To secure these known entrances and make sure that nothing comes up without the proper greeting."

Kyle turned to Park, "You and Charlie will be our reserve. I want you to establish and defend a CP and make sure that Lieutenant Coigent and his shore party," Kyle gestured to Coigent, "can focus on establishing and organizing ECMs and VI attacks."

"Pardon sir," Coigent said a little hesitantly, "But I was told my main purpose was to act as traffic controller and organize the landings of the other battalions?"

"That is also correct," Kyle said, looking extremely uncomfortable, "But Admiral Malik has denied my request for an additional naval attaché for ECM warfare and so that responsibility has fallen on you and your team."

Coigent sat open mouthed for a moment, "Sir, do you have any idea how difficult it is to act as drop master? And for battalion level drops? I can't be responsible for both ECM and ensuring that the ships land the right people in the right place at the right time. _C'est impossible._"

Kyle nodded sympathetically, "I know it'll be difficult, Lieutenant, and if I could change this plan I would. But your captain says you're one of their best tech specialists and you had already volunteered to act as our drop master, so Malik believes you are up to the task."

Shepard turned to look at Coigent, who sat their stoically as Kyle outlined more of the mission plan. Shepard understood now why Coigent had been the one to guide them onboard the Johannesburg-combat drops were tough, but they were tougher when you didn't know who was going along with you. Shepard snapped back to the focus as Kyle began to wrap up.

"Ladies and gentlemen," He said and Shepard could see a hand trembling. Major Kyle had always been a fatherly figure to his battalion, but Shepard could tell that the stress of this mission was getting to him, "Command thinks that this'll be a cake walk-the batarians thought this base was secure in secrecy and so have only limited defenses established.

"I think it is a mistake to underestimate your enemy, but that doesn't change our mission. We're marines; we're paid to fight and win. And that's what we'll do," Kyle paused from his speech for a moment, and then added sadly, "But I don't want you taking any unnecessary chances. No heroics-do the job and take care of your men. We're a light assault force-let the heavy battalions come in and clear out the tunnels.

"We're heading back to the Zhukov in two hours," Kyle said, "Jung, I want you to help Lieutenant Coigent get his shore party and any equipment they need over to us. We make ground fall in fifteen hours."

* * *

OPSEC: Operation Security

ECM: Electronic Counter-Measures

This is my take on Torfan, so please excuse me if it doesn't quite match what you expect-the Codex is infuriatingly vague about the actual battle. If anyone is interested, this is related to the characters of _Donnybrook Fair_, so you can consider it part of my Mass Effect Universe.

Many thanks to SneakyFox who helped proof read this chapter and has generally been a great source of encouragment throughout the whole process. I'll try to get part two up shortly.


	2. Contact

_"If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,  
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:  
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,  
And wait for supports like a soldier."- Rudyard Kipling._

* * *

His hands shook and he found himself reflexively clenching and unclenching his hands. Coigent had always hated heights and the jostling and turbulence as the landing craft broke atmosphere made him extremely nervous. He acknowledged it was an irrational fear for a man who intended to serve aboard starships, but he couldn't banish the butterflies from his stomach.

"First combat drop sir?" Asked Chief Green, "A little bit of nerves is natural."

Coigent smiled weakly at the Operations Chief assigned to provide security for his specialists. "I'm not too fond of heights Chief."

Green nodded and gave a reassuring smile, "I know how you feel sir. Just the idea of vacuum gives me the heebee-jeevies. But I've heard good things about Major Kyle's battalion. They're tough marines."

Coigent appreciated the sentiment, but he wouldn't feel any better until his feet were firmly planted on the ground. The pilot spoke over the intercom and let the passengers know that they'd be hitting dirt shortly. Coigent thanked his lucky stars that the bombardment seemed to have softened the enemy, for no fire came up to greet the Alliance transports.

Taking the announcement as a cue, Chief Green unbuckled his harness and began to pat down Coigent. Coigent cocked his head and Green just smiled again, "Just doing a pre-combat check. I figure I'd make sure you and your navy boys had everything in order. Where's your rifle sir?"

Coigent nodded at Green's logic, but instead of detaching an assault rifle, he drew a Kessler from his side and handed it to the Chief.

"No rifle?" Green said, frowning, "What happens if the LZ is hot?"

"My job's to ensure that the follow up landings go off cleanly and our ECMs and Combat VIs are being utilized effectively. I doubt I'll have time to be bothered with enemy fire," Seeing a dubious look on the older man's dark face, he added, "Isn't that why they put you with us, Chief? To make sure the poor navy shore party doesn't get bothered by some unruly aliens?"

"Fair enough sir; I'd still recommend picking up a Lancer if you get a chance," Green said, handing the pistol back, "Looks like you got it right. I'll start checking out the rest of the boys."

Green had made it halfway to the back of the transport when a sharp bank by the pilot sent him careening into the marines next to him. Coigent heard the pilot curse and shout at the rest of the crew to prepare for a hot landing. Coigent gripped his harness tightly and shut his eyes, when he heard the pilot address his passengers.

"Hold on tight and stay in your harnesses," The pilot said, a trace of excitement coming through the speakers, "We're coming under heavy fire. I'm going to try to shave our descent time down as much as I safely can."

The pilot began to put his ship through a series of maneuvers that threatened to make Coigent sick. The sound of heaving and retching told him that someone had beaten him to it, and for the first time, he found himself wishing that Torfan didn't have an oxygen rich environment so that his face would be covered by his breather. He winced as he watched Chief Green struggle to fight inertia as a sharp turn tossed him into the laps of a few unlucky marines.

He desperately wanted to find out what was happening, but Coigent had no desire to decrease their odds of survival by pestering the pilots at a time like this-and he wasn't sure he trusted his voice to speak without betraying the panic welling inside him. He remembered the words of the man who raised him after the raid on Mindoir:

_"Look Augie,"_ Ray Kelly had said_, _before Coigent had followed Kelly's daughter, Alma to the Academy_. "Just remember, men aren't expecting an officer to have all the answers. Hell, when you first get those pretty little pips, they'll know you'll be barely able to tell your arse from your head. _

_"What they're looking for,"_ Kelly continued, far more seriously than before, "_Is an officer who'll put their welfare before his own. A man who gets out in front and says 'follow me.' You don't have to be perfect; that's what your noncoms are for-but you've got to remain calm when the things are going to hell and make sure that the boys and girls are getting hot chow, even if you aren't eating anything other than nutrient paste. That kind of officer gets folks to follow him through hell and keeps a unit from falling apart when it's being cut to pieces."_

So Coigent kept silent, closed his eyes, and considered saying a prayer that his mother had taught him. He decided against it, however. He had never really shared his mother's faith, but his wife, Alma, had been a good Catholic and he had participated for her sake. He even grew to feel a small portion of that "divine spark" she had told him about. The spark died with her and Coigent decided he wouldn't let the dread in his chest make a hypocrite out of him.

A minute later, a small cry of surprise escaped his lips as something struck their ship and it began to plummet in an uncontrolled free-fall. A few other voices cried out and Coigent opened his eyes, glad to see a few of the marines were panicking. He was grateful that his cowardice wouldn't stand out now. Then he began laughing as he realized how ludicrous that was as their shuttle plummeted to the surface.

He wasn't laughing a moment later when Green slammed into his chest and knocked the wind out of him. Fortunately, the pilot had begun to regain control of his craft and Green rolled onto the floor, groaning. Coigent leaned down as far as he could in his harness and tried to pull the bulky marine off the floor.

"All hands brace for impact!" The pilot's voice came through loud and there was no hiding the excitement now.

Coigent struggled to lift Chief Green off the floor, but the heavier man wasn't giving him any help. With a tremendous effort and a loud curse, he succeeded in pulling Green to his knees and now Green was starting to reach for the harness. His actions were in vain, however, as something slammed into the dropship and sent Green flying again. Coigent was far luckier-his shoulders and body ached slightly from where the harness restrained him. It occurred to Coigent that they were still falling, but a second later the ship smashed hard into the surface and his world went black.

He awoke with a groan and found himself hanging from his straps. It was dark; the ship's emergency lighting wasn't sufficient to let him see what he was dangling over and his head was throbbing. Slowly, he started to move his extremities, making sure that everything was in order. His neck was sore from whiplash, but he was satisfied that there were no major injuries and he turned his helmet's flashlight on and looked around. He saw a few still forms hanging like he was, but a few had extricated themselves from their seats and were starting to help their comrades down. Coigent released himself from his harness and lowered himself onto the opposite wall.

Next to him, he saw a small, wiry marine kneeling by the crumpled form of Chief Green. The marine rolled the chief over and put his head to Green's chest. After listening for a moment the marine began frantically removing Green's chest piece.

"Come on, you black asshole," the marine said angrily pounding at the prone man's chest. Coigent moved closer; Green's head was twisted at an unnatural angle and Coigent knew the other marine's efforts were pointless. The marine realized this too, turning away and buried his head in his hands for a moment. Coigent decided not to bother the man and started to look for the next in the chain of command to help him organize the survivors.

"I'm your man sir," the marine took his head out of his hands and faced Coigent. "Service Chief Guillet. I'm the next in line. What are your orders?"

It took Coigent a minute to compose himself-Guillet had a bushy-black mustache that had to be outside regulations and Coigent struggled not to laugh. Remembering the situation at hand, he got to business.

"Get your marines topside and secure the area around the ship," Coigent said, "I'll have my shore party take stock of our wounded and meet you up top once we've got a rally-point set up."

"Yes sir!" Guillet said, turning towards the ship's other occupants, "Marines! Secure your weapons and follow me!"

Something was bothering Coigent and so he called out to Guillet before he left. Quietly he added, "How long was I out?"

"Out?" Guillet said, puzzled, "If you were unconscious sir, it had to be less than a minute-we've just gotten into the shit."

* * *

Things were a mess on the surface of Torfan. Anti-air guns that the pirates weren't supposed to have had wreaked havoc upon the battalion's dropships and to make matters worse, the pirates had some sort of sophisticated jamming device which was preventing the ground forces from communicating with the fleet above. And the only good thing that had come from the orbital bombardment was to create some cover for the marines.

It was in one of these craters that Shepard found himself with the remnants of his company, securing a position for the battalion tactical operations command and casualty collection point. _An exercise in futility_, he thought, _We haven't even found Major Kyle or the rest of the battalion chain of command.  
_

Frustrated, he gave a series of commands to establish a position to the first platoon leader and third platoon's platoon sergeant-the only authority figures from the maneuver platoons that he'd been able to scrounge together.

"Lieutenant Zivotovsky, Gunny Yu!" Shepard shouted over the din. "This spot is as good as any we're going to find-we've got enough cover from those big turrets, if they decide to turn them at us."

He paused for a moment and watched as his platoons moved into positions among the cratered landscape under-fire. He had to get some information-where was second platoon? For that matter, where was Major Kyle, Lieutenant Park, or the naval shore party?

"Assassin-Six,_"_ Shepard called over his radio, "This is Bulldog-Six. We're here and digging in. Any sign of Lion-Six, Checker-Six, or our navy friends, over?_"_

He waited a moment and finally Almeida responded, heavily breathing, "_Negative, Bulldog. We haven't found Lion-Six's dropship, nor our shore party."_

That was bad news-if they couldn't find the naval specialists, they had no chance to break through whatever was preventing them from talking to the fleet. Shepard waited a moment longer; she hadn't finished her transmission yet. After a few deep breaths, she finally continued, _"Checker-Six is dead, Checker-Five has taken command. Over."_

Shepard processed the news. It was all terrible: in less than a half hour since they had entered the atmosphere the chain of command was non-existent-Shepard wasn't even sure where Major Kyle's ship had gone down or if any of the battalion staff was still alive. A good friend was dead and he had no time to mourn Park's death; a barrage of incoming fire forced him to slide further to the bottom of his crater. He heard no screams of pain or cry of "Corpsman!" so he figured the pirates had missed. He decided to check out the situation and cautiously crawled back up to the top of his shell hole. Very carefully, he poked his head up and quickly surveyed the scene.

The battlefield was a mess of shellholes, destroyed prefabricated structures, and downed Alliance troopships. What was missing from the landscape were ruins of actual defensive structures. The Alliance had fallen victim to extremely effective camouflage-the orbital strike had obliterated decoys. Instead, the actual entrance to the base lay nestled in the side of a mountain under the cover of netting. It was a large circular shaped entrance, like the entrance to colonial mining or prothean archeological digs, with steps leading up to its main door and a few defensive turrets scanning the approaches.

Further from the entrance stood several large towers that had risen from the ground and unleashed a storm of shots and missiles on the troopships. The towers continued to fire in the atmosphere trying to keep the Alliance Fleet dispersed. Whether this was because the towers couldn't depress low enough to effectively target ground forces or just because they judged harassing the fleet was a better use for these guns, Shepard wasn't sure. Instead, most of the fire coming at the marines on the ground came from fireteam sized units protecting heavy weapons platforms. He spotted a trio of large repeating guns directed by a few batarians officers and crewed by several ugly, goblin-like aliens-vorcha, that was causing his company's current woes.

Dust kicked up near his face and a beeping in his ear told him he had kept his head up long enough that he'd been noticed. He ducked back down again, but he'd seen enough. It was this way all over the battlefield: small heavy weapons teams littered the landscape and had put an amazingly effective anti-air blanket up. Shepard made a mental note to mention in his after-action-report that Batarian Hegemony anti-aircraft capabilities far exceeded what anyone in Citadel Space had expected.

Expectations...A bitter laugh escaped his throat and he could feel the eyes of his first sergeant and his now useless communications specialist on him. He pushed the thought away and tried to come to a decision on what to do next. Over to his left, where Zivotovsky's first platoon was, he could hear the familiar report of the Lancer assault rifles increasing in tempo. Switching back to his company frequency he was tempted to start breathing down Zivotovsky's neck and find out what was happening. But, remembering the words from his instructors and his own experiences as a platoon leader under-fire, he exercised self control and waited for Zivotovsky to report in and let him know what was happening.

He made it to five-Mississippi before he made the call. Warren was not happy to hear from his company commander, but to the man's credit he responded clearly, if extremely concisely, _"One of my squads noticed the bats converging on a pair of downed dropships northwest; there are friendlies pinned there and we are providing support, over."  
_

Shepard chewed on his lip as he thought. He had been holding onto his weapon's platoon as his reserve with second platoon still missing. Was now the time to start using his fire support? _If Warren's correct and there are marines trapped and under-fire, then there's no question about it. _

"White-Six," He said addressing Warren Zivotovsky, "I'm giving you priority of fire with Gold Platoon's mortars and I'll see if I can't keep pull up some support from Assassins. Keep up the pressure, Bulldog-Six out."

Switching back to the battalion frequency, he called Almeida again, "Assassin-tell me you've got my red platoon, over?"

This time, Shepard didn't have to wait for a reply, "_Roger Bulldog, I'm already sending them your way,_" Almeida actually seemed invigorated now, "_Would have told you sooner, but your comm-monkey said you were on the other line, over."  
_

He laughed, then thought of something, "Assassin, what are you doing with Checker Company right now, over?"

"_Keeping it in reserve while I mop up back here and you secure the TOC. Once we've got that done, I figured we could secure that entrance. You have something in mind? Over."  
_

Quickly, Shepard explained about the two dropships under attack-with all the other units accounted for now, these two ships had to be Major Kyle and the shore party. "Give me some of Checker Company and I'll relieve them, over."

"_You've got it Bulldog, they're on their way. Give my regards to Lion-Six and your naval pal, Assassin out."_

* * *

"Merde, merde, merde," Coigent muttered as he and a specialist fought with their equipment. "That should have worked. How in the hell are they keeping us from reaching the fleet? Maybe if we..."

"Sir!" The specialist shouted a warning and Coigent quickly brought his Predator up and fired four rapid shots at the vorcha that had been climbing over the top of their shuttle. It was a skinny, scaly, awful looking creature with nasty teeth and blood red eyes that Coigent had in his nightmares for the last ten years. The incendiary rounds connected with the alien's center of mass and the alien dropped down, convulsing as flames spread from its torso. Immediately, another one took its place and he instinctively fired again-this time his shots were uncontrolled as he pulled the trigger repeatedly. This one held on for a little while as the shots set it ablaze, so Coigent kept firing until the pistol beeped loudly and began venting steam.

"It's dead sir," Guillet said behind him, "Let your pistol cool."

Guillet was right, but Coigent was still shaken, "Is there something you need Chief?" he said testily.

The other man was a professional to the core and continued as if oblivious to Coigent's snap, "There's a firefight picking up a little over two-hundred meters to our south-east; from what we can see, it looks like elements of Major Kyle's battalion are making a push for us."

"Excellent," Coigent thought for a moment about Guillet's word choice, "What do you mean, 'looks like'? Haven't you been able to reach them over the battalion wave?"

The young NCO tilted his head and looked incredulously at him for a moment. But just for a moment, a second later the professional was back and he spoke in a low voice, "I don't have access to the battalion frequency-you do," Guillet paused before continuing, "_You_ need to let them know we're still here."

Coigent cursed himself for his stupidity as he dropped everything he was doing. Turning to the specialist he ordered, "Keep at it and treat it like a low tech problem-we've been attacking this communication jam like it's some technological marvel, but I don't think these guys are really up to this."

Crouching onto his stomach he crawled back towards the relative safety of their shuttle. Getting there was a challenge however; the nose had smashed into the belly of another dropship, the back door was exposed to enemy fire, and since the ship was on its side the other side entrance was also exposed on top. This left the hatch on the other-side which they had only been able to push open with great effort. Even now they could only crawl between rocky earth and ship's armor with great difficulty.

Sweating a little, more from stress than exertion, Coigent made his way back inside the ship where most of his ten technical specialists were working with offensive VIs. Ignoring them as they ignored him, he took a moment to figure out how to switch to the battalion frequency.

He pressed a button that was connected to the earpiece in his helmet and a second later he heard the unmistakable chatter of commanders directing their troops. It was absurdly simple and he cursed himself for forgetting: "_Merde, je suis une imbécile_."

He listened and heard a clear masculine voice; Shepard's. _"Checker company is here and I'm starting to push towards our guys, over."_

A female voice replied affirmatively, "_Roger, but be careful-we still haven't been able to raise them; we don't want any fratricide, over."_

Taking this as his cue, he broke in, "This is Devil-Six, we're aware your coming, over."

The female voice, Almeida broke in, "_Devil, where the fuck have you been, over?"_

Grimacing, Coigent decided to stick with a half truth, "Busy, but we're ready for you. Haven't had any success breaking through whatever's jamming us, however. Over."

Before Almeida could berate him, Shepard came to his rescue, _"Understood, Devil. Is Lion-Six with you, over?"_

"I'm not sure," Coigent said truthfully, "We haven't been able to get into the other ship because the hatches available are too exposed to the enemy. We survived the crash," _Well, most of us_, "I think there might be survivors. The ship's mostly intact, over."

_"Roger, keep your head down and we'll be there shortly. Bulldog out."_

Satisfied that there was nothing else coming over the line, Coigent switched back to their own line and informed Guillet that help was indeed on it's way. It was difficult to communicate with Guillet; the sounds of the firefight increased in intensity and Coigent struggled to make himself heard clearly.

"No, I say again, you are correct-friends are coming in from the south-east; make sure your men know to watch their fire in that direction. Over."

_"Understood,_" Guillet replied, between sounds of gunfire and a grenade explosion. Coigent could hear a man screaming, even though the battle. _"Are you coming back out here, over?_"

"Shortly," Coigent said, "I want to check out how our offensive VIs are working first, over."

_"When you come back out_," Guillet said, breathing heavily, _"Bring all the extra medigel you can spare, things are getting worse up here. Over._"

Coigent cursed again and quickly turned to the nearest serviceman-or woman in this case, "How much medigel do we have in here?"

The woman-more of a girl, jumped, visibly startled by Coigent's voice, "Uh..." she stammered, looking away, and he had to remind himself to be patient with the shaking young sailor. Finally, her eyes snapped to his and she focused, "Just the emergency medical kits and what we have on ourselves."

"Give me the kits," and Coigent was handed two small first aid kits. "Is this all?"

"Y-yes sir," the serviceman stammered.

Frustrated, Green's lifeless body stacked in the corner with the dead pilots caught Coigent's eye. Wordlessly, he moved past the other servicemen to the corpses. He swiftly rifled through each of the bodies, to looks of disgust from one or two of the naval personnel. He ignored it and came away with three more small medi-gel packets. Not much, but better than what they had before.

Deciding to forgo checking on the offensive team's progress, he prepared to crawl back out. Turning to his team, he said, "I'm going back topside. Report if you have any breakthroughs."

He crawled back out-only smacking his head against the other ship twice this time and he was grateful he was wearing his helmet. The sight that greeted him when arrived back at where he had left Guillet and the others caused him to blanch. Guillet was firing his rifle from behind a pile of rubble while another marine supported him from nearby cover. In the other direction, three more marines kept a lifeline open to the unfortunate few who were left in the sparse protection around the ships.

Behind Guillet, Coigent saw the lifeless body of the serviceman he had left behind-blood covered the front of the corpse's armor and he saw that the bottom jaw and lower half of the poor boy's face had been shot clear away. Next to him a marine lay on his back-screaming and kicking a bloody stump as two other marines struggled to hold him down. A meter away lay the lifeless body of a vorcha, arms splayed out, a pistol just out of reach. Slightly further ahead of the vorcha lay another naval personnel, the hilt of a combat knife protruding from her thigh. She was crying and clasping at her leg while a marine bleeding from a cut to the head tried helping her.

Others were wounded, but Coigent stopped surveying the scene and took action. Moving forward, he tossed the loose medigel packs towards the marine with a cut on his forehead. He dove towards the legless marine and frantically ripped open one of the emergency first aid kits. He searched through it until he found a combat tourniquet-it was small, no more than ten or fifteen centimeters as he pulled it out. He quickly removed it from its package and began to slip it on the marine's thigh.

The marine was still kicking, despite the best efforts of two marines to subdue him, so Coigent switched his position and put his knee into the man's thigh to hold the stump as steady as possible. With effort, he finished setting it around the leg and began to twist the clamp that tightened the tourniquet. When he couldn't fasten it any further, he put the clamp down and viewed his work. The blood flow had slowed greatly, but a trickle of dark blood continued to ooze out of the stump. He grimaced as he tore open one of the medigel packs and smeared it over it. His hands and leg were covered in the marine's blood, but Coigent ignored it and continued to spread the medigel. The leg itself finally began to stop bleeding as the gel and the tourniquet began to work.

The tourniquet itself had cut off circulation to the limb, but Coigent had applied the gel packet to try and fight off any infection that might develop. The marine had stopped struggling and Coigent saw that he had mercifully passed out.

Turning to one of the marines who had helped hold down the wounded man, he asked, "Where's his leg?"

The marine looked at him blankly before gesturing back out front to the exposed section of their defenses.

Coigent nodded before adding, "Make sure someone collects it and sends it with him once the fighting dies down-but keep it out of sight in case he wakes up."

He turned to check out the rest of the wounded when the other marine spoke up, "Sir, I think he's going to need more medigel-he lost a lot of blood before you came."

Coigent reached for the first aid kit, to see if there was any gel left, but found that both kits were gone-taken to help the other wounded.

"Where's his medigel?"

"We used it to try and stabilize him out there," the second marine spoke, "I-I didn't realize his leg was gone until I looked down. I just didn't...it wasn't there."

Looking around, Coigent saw that what he had brought was insufficient. Hesitating a moment, he reached for his own pouch and began to fit it into the unconscious marine's armor; allowing the medigel to enter the bloodstream intravenously.

"What about you sir? What will you do if you're hit?" the marine asked.

"Hope there's a corpsman nearby," Coigent tried to pass it off as a joke, but the thought scared him. You weren't supposed to use your own medigel for another marine-that was there if you were hit. But Coigent couldn't simply allow one of the men he was responsible for to die of blood loss, not now.

Coigent took stock of his situation. He had left the cruiser with ten specialists and twenty of her marines detailed as security. Now, Green was dead, so were three other marines and one of his naval men. At least five other marines were wounded, two critically, and one navy serviceman was also wounded. That left eight of his specialists and eleven marines-including Service Chief Guillet. Coigent hoped Shepard and his company would come soon; if the batarians kept throwing vorcha at them suicidally, eventually they would break through.

* * *

Shepard loved being a marine. He loved the military life-the discipline, the challenge, the sense of duty, responsibility, and the adrenaline that came from combat-the simulations had nothing on it. He didn't even mind having to keep his hair so short-in fact, he preferred not having to bother with combs or products to make his hair presentable on the rare occasions he went out. But at the moment, he deeply regretting caving into his mother's plea that he take the gray to gold program and secured himself a spot at the academy after he had enlisted. If he had stayed enlisted, he'd probably be leading one of those squads under enemy fire right now...

Instead, he was lying on his belly watching as two platoons advanced towards the wreckage where Coigent and the other navy personnel were stuck. And Shepard hated every second that he was lying there watching other men risk their lives on his orders. One of the squads was advancing in buddy team rushes-and he saw a pair of marines cut down by rapid fire. Shepard fired futilely in the direction that the shots had come from, but saw with satisfaction as precision fire from Coigent's position cut down the batarians as they tried to relocate.

The pirates were finally beginning to give ground and beat a hasty retreat back towards the entrance to their complex or any place that offered safety from the marine's assault. Seeing the opportunity, Shepard called to his platoon leaders and told them to quicken the advance. Switching over, he contacted Almeida.

"Assassin, they're pulling back," He said excitedly, "If you've got any reserves to spare, direct them to push up on your side and I think we can trap at least a hundred of them out in the open. Over."

"_Understood, but I'm worried about those turrets by the entrance-you've got some cover down there, but we'd be exposed up on our end. Over,"_ she replied.

Before Shepard could answer, Coigent cut in, _"Devil-six here, my team can actually handle that. Give us the word when you start taking fire and we should be able to scramble their targeting all to hell, over."_

Almeida sounded dubious_, "Should? If you can't break through their jamming, how can you fuck with their targeting, over?"_

The reply she got sounded a little defensive, "_They're just broadcasting too much crap in the atmosphere for us to break through-we'll need to stop the signal before we can do something about that...but otherwise electronic security is a joke. Trust me, we can do this, over."  
_

Reluctantly, Almeida acquiesced and Shepard watched through his rifle's scope as the company began to push forward and cut-off the retreating pirates. True to his word, as the smaller turrets turned to engage the infantry, Coigent's team hacked them and began to direct their anti-vehicular weapons against the towers. They were largely ineffective against the bases, but Coigent's men redirected the fire against the guns themselves and after several direct hits, the towers were silenced and the possessed turrets turned their attention to the fleeing infantry.

Finally Shepard couldn't stand it anymore. Taking his cue as Zivotovsky's platoon assaulted through Coigent's position, Shepard leapt up with a war whoop and led the company headquarters towards the front lines. By this time, the remaining pirates on the surface had started a route and he had to sprint to get into a good firing range. He took a knee and opened fire on a batarian that's back was turned to him. Shepard quickly brought down the runner's shields and the target slumped forward and didn't move again.

This situation repeated itself all over the battlefield before the last few pirates were able to make it through the door, with a few making it to the relative safety of a nearby cave. The two turrets turned towards each other and began to blast themselves into oblivion. The battlefield began to get quiet again, except for a few sporadic shots. Elements from Almeida's company set up a cordon to keep the remnants in the cave from reforming and causing trouble and Shepard took a deep breath and surveyed his surroundings. He noticed a few marines scattered about picking through the piles of dead or wounded enemy and watched, dumbstruck as one of the marines from Park's company fired into the back of a crawling batarian. He realized what the shots were. He started running towards the marine

"CHIEF!" He bellowed to his operations chief over the company frequency, "Stop those marines-we need prisoners."

He arrived next to the marine and tackled her as she prepared to execute a cringing vorcha. She struggled with him and attempted to use combatives to throw Shepard off, but the lieutenant's N6 training paid off and he quickly disarmed her, twisting the arm behind her.

"The fuck?" said the marine when she realized her assailant was human. A moment later she recognized Shepard as a lieutenant, "Oh shit, sorry sir. I thought you were one of them. Can you let me go now?"

"That depends," Shepard said, giving her arm a twist for emphasis, "Are you going to keep executing our prisoners?"

The marine tilted her head back to look at Shepard and snarled, "What? You know what these bastards did to anyone they capture on Elysium or Mindoir? I lost three friends today."

"I know Private! I know what they are," Shepard said, matching her intensity, "But we're better than them and we need some alive for information."

She stared back and Shepard added, "Are we clear?"

After a moment she answered, "Crystal sir," and Shepard released her. She picked up her weapon and the wounded vorcha just looked at them, too shocked by the exchange to move. He eyed his new captor with fear, but when he saw that she didn't move to execute him, he smiled an awful grin.

"Yessssss, no sshoooot. Me surrrrrender," it said, raising a bloodied hand plaintively, "No dangerrr. Give good information. You seeee!"

The marine looked at the pitiful creature in disgust, then back at Shepard. With great reluctance, she motioned with her rifle and the vorcha started to move back towards the Alliance lines. Shepard watched for a moment and after he was sure she would follow his orders, he turned back to reorganize his companies and figure out just what the hell had happened today.

* * *

"The guns have been silent for almost thirty minutes Admiral," Hackett paused. "And our scans don't show any signs of fighting where our people touched down."

Admiral Malik stared blankly past Rear Admiral Hackett, rubbing his hands anxiously. He'd been this way since the first shots had been fired at their landing party-alternating between impotent raging at the bridge crew, demanding status updates, and stoney silence. Hackett would have liked to believe this was a sign of the admiral formulating someway to salvage the debacle on Torfan. But he knew that Malik's silence was a calculated move to cover the man's incompetence.

Hackett waited for a moment and Malik still made no indication that he had heard his report. Instead, Malik walked forward a bit more, putting his hands behind his back, still saying nothing. Hackett felt the eyes of many of the sailors and officers watching him and decided to press his superior again.

"Admiral, the fighting has died down and Captain Kahoku is-"

Malik cut him off, "I heard you the first time, Steve. I realize you didn't have academy training because of your battlefield commission, but it is generally considered rude to interrupt your superior."

_And there he goes again_, Hackett thought, _My own mother only called me Steven_. He clenched his jaw as he struggled to maintain the facade of stoicism. _Don't let the bastard provoke you._

"My apologies Admiral," Hackett continued, "But Captain Kahoku is requesting permission to drop some troops closer to Major Kyle's battalion."

"Absolutely not," Malik said, shaking his head, "For all we know, this is just an attempt to lure more of our people into a vulnerable position. I won't risk any more dropships on a hunch. We've taken too many shortcuts today. Our alternate landings go as planned."

It took even more self-control to keep Hackett from lashing out at Malik, _You ass, taking shortcuts on our landing was your idea._ Thankfully, years of service from a time before humanity realized it was not alone among the stars had taught Hackett the value of self discipline and he was able to hold his tongue.

Trying not to antagonize a man already on edge, Hackett probed, "We could try dropping a few Makos closer for recon-they wouldn't be as vulnerable to the enemy fire and they'd carry less troops than a dropship. We could load them with medical supplies other specialized equipment Kyle's bound to need."

For one of the few times in the years Hackett had had to endure as Malik's subordinate, the admiral appeared to be seriously considering his suggestion. Hackett allowed himself to believe that maybe Malik would put his pride and whatever reason he disliked Hackett aside and listen.

"Have we received any word from our battalion on the ground?" Malik inquired, hands still behind his back.

Slowly, a cold feeling began to spread over Hackett, "No Admiral. They're piggy-backing off our own jamming system. We can't figure out how to remotely disable it. Either we'd have to shut off our system or wait for ground forces to disable it at its source."

Malik snapped, "Shutting off our jamming system would be unacceptable, _Steve_," he reverted back to the lecturing tone and added the obvious, "We cannot allow the batarians to realize we're hitting their outpost."

Hackett began grinding his teeth as he nodded at Malik's condescending tone. "I understand, Admiral. I am just informing you of the developments."

"I was already aware of that, what is your point?" Malik said, crossing his arms now.

"I agree with Captain Kahoku, Admiral," Hackett said. "Regardless of whether or not we can communicate with them, it's obvious that they will need support-even if they've achieved their objective, the sheer amount of opposition they'll have faced means they'll have taken serious losses and need additional medical aid."

Softly, he added, "They weren't prepared for this kind of opposition."

At that remark, Malik's eyes widened and his nostrils' flared.

"That is because we were misled by those 'superior council races,'" Malik said, arms moving frantically to make air quotes, "The 'mighty peacekeeping arm' of the council failed to prevent pirates from acquiring sophisticated anti-air-capabilities."

Malik continued, raging against those he deemed responsible for his problems, "And those pencil-necked salarian know-it-alls who swore this place was lightly defended. They led us into an ambush to try and thwart humanity's rise in the galaxy."

Hackett's heart sunk into his stomach-it wasn't that he didn't suspect that some of what Malik said was true-he wouldn't put anything past the salarians if they deemed it in their interests...but he realized that he had lost any chance of reasoning with Malik.

"So in short," Malik said, rounding on Hackett, getting up close and personal in the taller man's space, "I'm not going to take any more short cuts. We are finishing this by the book," With that Malik stepped back and returned to pacing.

"Even if it means that Major Kyle'll have to hold out for hours before any help arrive?" Hackett sighed, dreading the answer.

His question received no reply, as if Malik hadn't heard him.

* * *

_Well, author's note here. I'd like to personally thank Sneakyfox and Bahoogasmif for their editing and advice. Both of them are excellent writers in their own right and I'd link their stories here...but I'm afraid I'd lose what few readers I have! _

_Anyway, thanks guys for your advice and grabbing the grammar mistakes I missed._

_My apologies if this took a while...but even though I had some of it written when I published part one...it was a little more difficult than I anticipated and I'm afraid part three and the epilogue will take even longer...things are about to get really rough for Shepard and company and I want to make sure it is up to snuff._


End file.
